


worlds apart

by unicyclehippo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, just a silly little band story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is in desperate need of a fun night out, according to Octavia. Meets a girl, falls in lust, girl turns out to be band member. Make outs, Clarke is adorable, Lexa has tattoos, they're totally not In Love they're just Having Fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Clarke, come on. Promise me you’ll at least try to have some fun.”

Octavia was stern and loving at the same time - Clarke knew that she was just trying to cheer her up but she wished that she would stop. She didn’t feel anything about her crummy ex boyfriend anymore other than, okay, a slight ache in her chest. But it had nothing to do with him. It was more to do with the faint idea that followed her around that she wasn’t worth it, that he was right to leave her, that it had been all her fault.

“Fun,” Octavia told her again, commanded really, and Clarke nodded obediently.

“I’ll try. But you go, I know you want to meet up with Lincoln.”

“You’ll be okay by yourself?”

Clarke just gave her a disgusted look - of course she would be okay - and Octavia laughed. That was good enough for her, more like the old fearless Clarke, so with a squeeze of her hand the younger girl disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the bar.

It was loud in the warehouse. It was loud and dark and the lights flashed purple and green and she couldn’t make out any of the face properly.

She liked it.

She’d been hesitant about the whole thing at first. She was well aware of the fact that Octavia was only taking her out because she was sick of her roommate moping around but, despite the pity invite, Clarke was feeling more like herself. She loved colours. She loved the upturned faces and the sweating dancers and the screaming of lyrics and she loved the half-formed faces drenched in shadows and she itched to make her way to the edge and get her hands on charcoal - something messy, something dark, something that would capture the rapture of the place. But until then, because she had nothing on her that would make any kind of art, she made do with watching and committing images to memory and it built up inside her until she was full and she knew that she wouldn’t be sleeping that night.

“You look entirely out of place,” a low voice said in her ear.

“And you look like you were born for this,” she said back, eyeing the girl. Thick black makeup coated her eyes, dragged down her cheeks in a look that was no doubt supposed to be threatening but which made Clarke bite her lip and wonder how that mixture would feel under her fingers. Which made her think about touching, and about skin, and about the human body as a medium, and specifically this girl underneath her and wow she had not had those kinds of thoughts in a long time and she should really take a step back. “I’m Clarke,” she said instead, staying where she was.

“Lexa.”

God damn, her voice was sweet and low and Clarke looked down and had to laugh because Lexa was right. She did look entirely out of place in her tight jeans and shirt. Especially next to this (incredible, beautiful, stunning, dark, majestic, totally hot) girl in all black, sleeveless and muscled and tattooed, studded bracelet looking more like armour than accessory, hair braided tight into place.

“What are you doing here?” Lexa asked and Clarke wavered for a moment before she took a step closer. It felt like there was a bubble around them, there near the edge of the dance floor - battlefield, really, movements like punches and violence in a strangely appealing way (bloodlust, her mind supplied, and she made a note to introduce red, a lot of it, into whatever she drew that night).

“Trying to have fun.”

“Are you succeeding?”

Clarke looked her up and down slowly and took yet another small step closer. There wasn’t much space between them anymore and it was hard to miss her grin. “Having more now that you’re here,” and it wasn’t subtle at all but she was sick of subtle. She wanted strong, she wanted undeniable, she wanted hot - and she was going to get it.

“Good.” Lexa leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “Why are you really here?”

“Direct, aren’t you?” Lexa just nodded at the laughed words and Clarke leaned next to her and she was glad they were more or less the same height because behind the dark makeup, Lexa’s eyes were stunning and bright and so so green and Clarke made a note to introduce green as well to her plans. “I’m trying something new.”

“Fun is new to you?”

“Might as well be.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “An ex,” she said and it wasn’t a question but Clarke nodded anyway. “Bad?”

“Bad enough?”

“Need some help forgetting?” Lexa held out her hand and Clarke licked her lips because wow those arms and she took her hand and followed her out onto the dance floor.

The night was a blur of sweat and colour and green eyes and a flash of a white smile and lips against her neck and a hand on her stomach pulling her back into strong arms and legs against hers and the taste of sweat and something sweet when Clarke returned the favour, digging her teeth not so lightly into Lexa’s neck (which she really, really didn’t seem to mind) and she hoped those fingers bruised her hips because fuck she wanted to have proof of this in the morning that it wasn’t a dream. But all too soon it was over and Lexa’s smile was an apology then instead of a promise and she was gone.

“Looked like you were having a lot of fun,” Octavia teased her when she found her friend later, draped over her boyfriend. “Who was the girl?”

Clarke flopped into the chair, grunted a hello to Lincoln. She was about to answer when the stage lights shot to blinding and faded slowly to introduce the newest band. She shot upright, mouth drying out.

“Clarke? You okay?”

“That’s her,” Clarke said, pointing to the girl on stage. Octavia gaped.

“No fucking way.”

“Way.”

“No way.”

“Octavia, trust me, that’s her.” She fooled herself into thinking she could see the green of her eyes even so far across the warehouse but she could, at least, faintly make out a mark on her neck that she had definitely put there.

“Clarke, do you know who that is?”

“Her name is Lexa.”

“Fuck yes it is. That is Lexa,” Octavia repeated. “Lead singer of tonDC Lexa. Winner of so many fucking awards Lexa.” She smacked her hand hard into Clarke’s shoulder. “Babe. You made out with Lexa.”

“Technically,” she said, “We never kissed. I just gave her a hickey.”

“Fuck off - you did that?” Octavia leaned forward - Clarke noted that Lincoln had a hand loosely wrapped around her waist so she didn’t fall off and she had to sigh because they were so grossly perfect for each other (it hadn’t been a whole month of them dating yet, so she couldn’t tell Octavia that) and she had just made out with a girl who was way too good for her and it was never going to turn into anything. But at least she had fun, right?

“Hey there.” Lexa’s voice poured hot into the microphone and she had to pause for a moment because there were upwards of four hundred people screaming her name then. “We are tonDC she,” she hesitated before shrugging, “there’s a girl in the crowd who is new to this whole experience so I’m thinking we should blow her out of the water. What do you think?” The crowd screamed again and Octavia was slapping her shoulder hard over and over but Clarke barely noticed because holy shit did Lexa mean her?

“She means you,” Octavia was saying to her but that was just Octavia.

“Maybe you should come to our next gig too,” Lexa said. The grin she pressed to the microphone was wicked and teasing and held more than half a laugh behind it. “But lose the pastels.” And Octavia was screaming into her ear and Clarke doubted that she would ever get her hearing back on that side and she was looking around but literally no one else was wearing pastels and she could have sworn that Lexa was looking right at her and then she was being swept away by the music which, she had to admit, was kind of amazing when it wasn’t two in the morning and Octavia was playing it too loudly when Clarke had an exam the next day.

They were home and in bed when Clarke finally dared to ask. “O?”

“Mmwhat?” the girl grumbled, all energy sapped out of her.

“When is their next concert?”


	2. Chapter 2

“You ready for this, lover girl?”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Not a chance.” Octavia waved at the bouncer, who nodded his head - and did he look at Clarke strangely? She skirted past him because he was definitely watching her and she thought maybe he was smirking as well but that was ridiculous, she had never met him before. “So lover girl, go find your other half.”

“We talked for like three seconds, O, I don’t think that she’s my soul mate.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “And we probably won’t even meet up again. She’s busy doing band stuff. Probably.” Clarke hated the way her words dripped with hesitation and hope because Octavia was grinning at her looking far too pleased. “Go away.”

“Are you kidding me? And miss out on meeting Lexa?” Octavia shook her head. “No way.”

She did leave eventually - Lincoln was waiting for her and Clarke wanted to have a look around, especially at the merchandise stand she could see, and they’d been there for an hour already and Lexa hadn’t approached Clarke so Octavia sighed and patted her shoulder and went to find her boyfriend.

“These for sale?” Clarke yelled over the band playing.

The girl manning the booth looked up, looked her over. “Yeah.”

“Can I get one?” She tapped the one CD that Octavia didn’t have of tonDC and the girl nodded, accepting the bill and stuffing it into the bad on her waist. “Thanks.”

“First time?” the girl asked her.

“Second.”

“Yeah. You’ve got that fresh meat look about you.” Clarke didn’t know whether to laugh or to be offended but the girl didn’t look like she was judging, just noting that Clarke looked fresh faced and excited (all wide-eyed and innocent, which wasn’t something that most of the band followers could claim). “Hey.” Before Clarke could leave, the girl was leaning forward and flicking through the CDs on the table. She pulled out an old looking case, with over art that had a very ‘first CD’ look about it. Octavia didn’t have this one either, Clarke thought, turning it over. Definitely not. She hadn’t heard these songs - and she would know. Ever since the first concert a month ago, she had been binging the music. “Take it,” the girl said, lifting her feet up onto the table again.

“How much?”

“For you?” she shrugged. “Free.”

Clarke paused. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been given free things before - people flirted sometimes, girls and boys, and she was okay with that. She was very much okay with taking free things as well because she was the epitome of a broke art student. But this was different because yes, the girl had looked her up and down but it was less ‘I’m checking you out’ and more ‘I think I might know you’, reminding her of the bouncer at the door.

“Thanks,” Clarke said slowly.

“Sure thing.”

And then, when she was a few steps away, “weird,” Clarke muttered to herself.

“What? You don’t like getting freebies?”

Clarke paused, head whipping to the side where Lexa was stepping out of a dark, dimly lit doorway. Her face was free of the dark makeup she’d had the first time they’d met and Clarke couldn’t move, all energy focused on her heart smashing against her ribs.

“Hi,” she whispered and the word was swallowed up in all the crash and clamour of the world around them but Lexa’s eyes flicked down to her lips and she smirked when she saw the word forming.

She nodded. “Hi,” she said back. “I wasn’t sure that you would come.” Lexa stepped forward and her smirk grew and she tried to smother it, pressing her lips together, but Clarke could see it lighting up her face with amusement and it was sweet and beautiful and adorable and oh god she had it bad. She blamed Octavia. “I thought I told you to get rid of the pastels,” Lexa said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t always do what I’m told.”

“Really?” Lexa stepped closer again and she was near enough that they could talk without yelling - that is, quite incredibly close - and Clarke swore she could feel the heat of her gaze and the rake of her smile. “You look like such a good girl to me,” Lexa murmured.

The singer’s eyes widened when Clarke stepped forward and she hadn’t been expecting it. She’d been expecting, no doubt, Clarke to go weak in the knees (she did but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give as good as she got), and she took a step back and then another and another when Clarke advanced on her and then her back was against the wall and she licked her lips nervously.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Clarke husked.

Lexa swallowed and her eyes flickered to the stage for a moment before she nodded, more to herself than to Clarke, and she lifted her hands to Clarke’s shoulder, pulling her in. And her lips were on Clarke’s and one hand dropped down to her waist and tugged her closer and Clarke was glad she had worn her jacket because the wall was rough against her forearm she used to brace herself as she leaned against the other girl - she was so soft, god - and it was awkward with the CDs in her hand but she could put that aside and let herself kiss Lexa breathless. She shifted, nipping at her bottom lip, melted into Lexa’s moan, and she was pulling her closer and their hips lined up and

“Wait, wait,” Lexa said, pulling back.

“I’m so sorry, I,” Clarke leapt away, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Clarke, Clarke, relax,” Lexa laughed, pulling her back. “I have to go on stage,” she told her. “Really soon and I’m not ready.” She gestured to her bare face and she grinned when she felt Clarke relaxing and when she saw the blonde’s sheepish smile. “What we were doing? That was cool.”

“Yeah For me too.”

“Lexa! For fucks sake - stop making out with her and get your ass back here!” a voice bellowed from the hallway Lexa had stepped out of earlier and Lexa shot him her middle finger in response, never moving away from Clarke.

“You have to go,” Clarke said.

“Yeah.” Lexa eased away from the wall and Clarke drew back. “Hey, are those our CDs?”

“Oh. Well. I, umm. Yes.”

Lexa nodded. “Can I?” She held her hand out for them and Clarke didn’t even think about it for a moment before she handed them over. But then Lexa was running away into the hallway and - Did she make out with me to steal her CDs back? Is that the kind of thing that happens at places like these? Did I just get swindled? Clarke had time to think before Lexa was back, pushing the cases back into her hands, and tugging her forward with a hand on the back of her neck into a hot slow kiss that left Clarke with eyes closed and, when she opened them, Lexa was just a grin and then gone.

“Oh my god.” Clarke had to lean against the wall for a second, hand pressed to her chest. “Oh my god.” Kissing like that had to be illegal.

She managed to make her way back to the bar - Octavia would be there somewhere and she thought maybe the kiss had left her intoxicated and she should be under close watch.

“Shit!” Octavia said when she saw her. “I missed her again, didn’t I?” Clarke nodded, blissful smile in place. “Shit! She’s, like, my hero. Next time,” Octavia swore, smashing her fist down into her hand. “Next time. “

Clarke just flopped into the cushions next to her and Lincoln and peered down at the CDs. There was a mark on it now, she thought, and she squinted in the faint light to see LEXA written in a neat block script.

“Hey,” Clarke grinned, “she signed them for me.”

Octavia held her hand out to look and she flipped the case over, mouth dropping open. “Oh. Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Clarke, she gave you her number.”

Clarke snatched the case back and, sure enough, a phone number was scrawled over the back. “Might not be hers,” she suggested, but that kiss… She licked her lips. Maybe it was Lexa’s number.

“Only one way to find out,” Octavia told her and Lincoln nodded.

Clarke pulled her phone from her pocket and turned on the torch app so she could see the numbers clearly. (Her stomach did a funny little swoop when she saw them so distinct against the case.)

“What do I say?”

Octavia shrugged, totally unhelpful.

“Thank you might be a good place to start,” Lincoln suggested.

“I like your boyfriend,” Clarke said and Octavia squealed. The one month mark passed, Clarke was allowed to say things like that and he might not have known but their meeting up tonight had been for Lexa but also for that express purpose - to make sure that Clarke still liked him. Octavia hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek. “Congrats,” Clarke said distractedly, “You’ve passed the best friend test.”

“There was a test?” He looked to Octavia for confirmation but she just nodded and kissed him.

Clarke held her breath, number input, and typed out her message.

Thanks for the kiss, she wrote out. Then deleted it. Then wrote it again. Then deleted it because no, that was stupid and she needed to write something that was cool and - oh who was she kidding? She wasn’t cool. But Lexa had kissed her anyway so she wrote it out once more and sent it off and Lexa’s band was being introduced so Clarke knew she wouldn’t get the message for a while but she had her number and she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so giddy.

“We are tonDC!” Lexa yelled into the microphone. “We have a special set tonight. Grab a partner,” she told her rapt crowd, voice dropping low into a husk, “and get ready to rock and roll.” As one, she and her band rocked their hips suggestively and the screams of the crowd crashed like a wave against the stage. “First one’s called Command Me.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke turned her phone nervously over and over in her hand. She felt stupid, sitting alone at the cafe. This was most likely some big hoax. But, as Octavia had told her shoving her out of their apartment, what did she have to lose? “Nothing! You have absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain because Clarke, and I say this with love, you are very boring and this is the most exciting thing you’ve let yourself have in literally the whole seven years I have you,” Octavia oh so kindly reminded her and shoved her again before closing the door.

She looked at the message again.

You are very welcome, Clarke. Would you like to get breakfast with me? And a time and address, which hadn’t been a hotel or a house thankfully, otherwise Clarke wouldn’t have gone. She was glad of all the people around. Even if she was going to get stood up in front of them all.

Perhaps she should leave, she considered, but it was only twelve minutes past the time Lexa had sent and the memory of their kiss was strong enough to make Clarke remain in her seat.

It was only another three minutes - and seven nervous glances at her phone, later when Lexa slipped into the chair opposite Clarke and winced at the quiet grating sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor. She had a beanie pulled low over her hair, her hair wild and wonderful, and sunglasses lodged firmly over her eyes. Clarke couldn’t hide a smile, watching her move with all the exaggerated care of a very, very old person or someone who was doing their best not to aggravate a hangover.

“Good morning, Clarke,” she murmured, and Clarke really didn’t think it was fair that her voice was sleep-tinged and husky. It did things to her. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” she offered and she reached up to pull her sunglasses off, smiling slightly, relieved, when the light didn’t make her want to crawl into the darkest pit she could find and stay there.

“Good morning,” Clarke returned cheerily. “You look delightful.”

“While I understand you are referring to the hangover and mocking me,” Lexa said, narrowing her eyes with a hint of a smirk, “I did dress up for you.”

Clarke dragged her eyes slowly over the other girl, leather jacket and tight jeans, and she licked her lips. “I can see that,” she murmured, hoping that she could affect Lexa as much as she was her. It was only fair. Besides, Octavia had already warned her. Lexa wasn’t a one girl kind of person. This wasn’t going to mean anything to her. But Clarke, well, She wanted to make an impression anyway.

They ordered then, the waitress whisking past and talking to them cheerily. Clarke tried not to look too disappointed when she had to turn away from Lexa to give the woman her request. Lexa didn’t even bother, she just looked at Clarke while she spoke, her gaze heavy.

“So,” Clarke asked. “You had a party last night then?”

Lexa shrugged. “A celebration.” She looked away then, shifted her fork very slightly so the end of it was in line with the end of its paired knife. “We have been asked to open for The Grounders at the end of the month, it’s a big deal for the band.” Clarke nodded. She recognised the name and she tried to imagine what that might be like for Lexa, to be preparing to step out onto a stage in front of a thousand, more probably, screaming fans. Playing. Singing. She wiped her hands on her jeans nervously. Lexa was a seriously big deal, she realised, and her gaze turned shy when she looked up under her lashes at the other girl.

“Are you excited?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.” It was simple and direct. Which was reassuring, given that it was exactly what Lexa had lead her to know about her. Spot Clarke in a crowd, dance with her. Let her suck a hickey into her neck. Find her the next time. Kiss her like she wanted her to burn up. Give her her phone number. Lexa very obviously went after what she wanted and, even know that she would be the flavour of the month, Clarke felt good. At least she was wanted. “Although I am sorry that the celebration made me late. I was looking forward to going for a run,” she commented, looking out at the too-bright, for her eyes at least, sun. She caught Clarke’s small grimace. “You are not a runner?” she asked.

“Not really a morning person.”

Lexa smiled a very small smile then. For some reason, Clarke’s answer seemed to delight her and Clarke wanted to know, why, how had she made her smile like that? How could she do it again? Because all too soon the smile was gone and Clarke wanted it back, wanted to admire the little dimple and shadow it caused.  She wondered if, later, she would be allowed to kiss it.

“What kind of person are you then, Clarke?” she asked.

“Boring,” Clarke laughed, smiling wider when the waitress lowered their plates in front of them, giving the woman a more common smile, a more easily given smile. It faded back to a soft smile, a grace, when she locked eyes with Lexa, cheeks flushing under the intense way Lexa was examining her. “What?” she laughed.

“I do not think you could be boring,” Lexa said gravely. “Would you tell me about yourself?”

And oh, Clarke let herself be whisked away by the pleasure of being wanted and agreed. 

* * *

"What about this?"

"I can't wear a Hello Kitty t-shirt on stage, Clarke." Lexa hid a smile behind the denim jacket she held up. "What do you think of this?"

"It has an enormous stain on the sleeve that might be blood. No."

"It would add to my reputation."

"You can do that in ways that don't involve being involved with questionable substances. No."

"Fair enough." Lexa hung it back up. "I don't think we're going to find anything in here."

"Find any-" Clarke blinked in surprise. "No of course not. You don't  _find anything_ here," she told Lexa. "This is where you come when you want to relax, look through clothes and imagine the people who might have worn them, pick up a wooden rabbit with only half an ear left and think to yourself - what creature would have done this?" She waved to the rabbit next to her, half an ear remaining. "It was a chihuahua, by the way."

"How do you know that?"

"I donated it. It was a gift from my aunt? Anyway, my mum left it out when a guest came to visit with their dog. Personally, I think it was purposeful but my mum swears up and down that it was an 'accident' and she 'didn't know that the delightful little ball of teeth was going to destroy such a  _precious_ and  _beloved_ gift' like that." Clarke rolled her eyes. 

"I see." Lexa tapped the rabbits nose with a finger. "It's a rather terrifying looking thing."

"Yep." Clarke turned it around to face the wall. "Do you like movies?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen Mad Max?"

"Twice."

Clarke paused. Looked down at her shoes and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Would you like to see it again?"

Lexa nodded. "Yes."

"Great. I'll get the tickets, you get the snacks."

* * *

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"You went to see the movie and?" Octavia held her breath, eyes wide. She was balanced at the end of Clarke's bed and tense, expectant. 

"And we saw it then she left because she had like a band meeting or something."

"Clarke." Octavia sighed. " _Clarke_. Did you kiss her?"

"Oh." Clarke grinned. "Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How many times?"

"Well, once."

"Just once?" Octavia pouted. "Boring."

"Continuously. For about three minutes. Maybe five. We lost track of time." Clarke rolled her eyes when Octavia bounced on the bed, squealing. "Stop it," she said, "stop, it doesn't mean anything. We're good at hanging out together, she's cool, and we kissed. It's not a big deal."

"She  _likes_ you."

"She's liked twelve other girls in the past year, or so you told me." Octavia waved that comment away. "No, come on, we're just having fun," she said sternly. "Don't make this weird."

"Fine." 

"Thank you."

"But can you _try_  and get us free tickets or something?" She left the room quickly, Clarke snapping a towel in her direction. "It's not unethical if she  _wants_ to give you things, Clarke! It's just being friendly!"


	4. Chapter 4

“Lexa.”

She strummed lightly at her guitar, frowning at the crack on her wall that looked rather like an eggplant. She didn’t notice, or she would have stopped it, the way her foot jittered, energy running through her too much for her to cap and very much needing to find its escape.

“Lexa.”

Eyes then closed, slipped her into blissful dark, and Lexa replayed those quick memories. Clarke, somewhat surprised and relieved when she had arrived. That hint of amusement when Lexa had made it all too clear that she was hungover. The easy smile she had given her again and again that Lexa really felt she didn’t deserve. It wasn’t like her to make a girl feel like she was being stood up - she would have to have serious words with Anya about the amount of vodka she had slipped into what were supposed to be virgin drinks - and she had meant to be there early and she let herself feel again that quick rush of relief she had felt when she had more or less tripped into the cafe and had seen that lovely blonde hair, seen that Clarke was there waiting for her.

Clarke. Wow. Lexa strummed again at her guitar - “Lexa?” - and smiled, just a little. She was beautiful. Obviously, in the colour of her eyes and the shape of her lips and her bdoy. But her eyes, they lit up bright and Lexa couldn’t help but think of the draw of a cigarette late at night the light at the end of it a single star in the dark and maybe Clarke’s eyes were her new addiction but then there were her lips and the taste of them - intoxication, sweetness, and (Lexa had to smile) chapstick - had clung to her, made her lick her lips over and over and the tingle had never quite left her, flared up now and again at the mere thought of the blonde, and now knowing the wonderful words she held behind them… Lexa threw her head back and groaned, draping her arm over her eyes.

She wanted Clarke.

“Lexa, holy shit, do you want to watch the movie or are you just going to make us all super uncomfortable while you moan about your girlfriend in the corner all day?”

She flipped Gus off slowly, dragging her hand off her guitar to neatly make the gesture.

“Okay, thank you. That is so mature of you.” He took hold of the neck of her guitar, easing it gently out of her grip. “I’m confiscating this. Either sit with us and watch this crappy movie-”

“Hey!” Echo had picked the movie, obviously, and she threw a pillow at Gus’s head. “Rude.”

“Or go to your room,” he finished.

“We get it, Gus, you’re two years older than us,” Anya said, “but you still can’t tell us what to do.” He sighed, rolled his eyes. Fell back into his enormous armchair after placing Lexa’s guitar gently back into its case. “You know what you should do, Lexa. You should call her,” Anya continued from her place sprawled on the ground, where she wasn’t even bothering to pretend to be interested in the movie, just staring up at the ceiling. “Invite her to the party.”

“Why would I do that?” Lexa grumbled.

“Because you want to fuck her, don’t you?” Anya shrugged. “We leave in a week. Get it out of your system and forget about her.”

“God Anya, you are foul.” Echo kicked her with her foot, but it had less of an effect than she had hoped when the other woman just rolled with the push and turned over onto her face, seemingly falling back to sleep. “You should ask her on a date,” Echo suggested.

“No.” Lexa frowned at the television screen. She didn’t take in a second of it but it helped her think. “Anya is right. We are leaving soon.”

“She’ll just be a distraction anyway.” Anya mostly grunted into the carpet, muffling her words, but Lexa heard enough and it made an awful lot of sense to her. “Plus after Costia-”

Lexa didn’t want to hear anymore, excused herself to her room. Anya was right. About some things.

About most things.

She was crass and frankly horrible sometimes, but she was the closest thing Lexa had to a sister and she knew how things worked in the real world. She was right.

About most things.

Lexa tapped her phone against the flesh of her palm as she paced her room, thinking. They were leaving in a week. Party the night before they flew out to practice with The Grounders. She could invite Clarke. Get it all over with.

Party on the 5th, she sent. You should come.

Address, time, open invitation, and Lexa knew that Clarke would drag her best friend along with her, and with her the mountain of a boyfriend Clarke had mentioned.

The quick I’ll be there sent tingles - flash fire versions of tingles, hot and quick - down her spine and Lexa swallowed thickly, suddenly looking forward very much to the party. And yet, the slick dark gritty feeling underneath, the one that coated Lexa’s tongue with heavy doubt, left a bad taste in her mouth and an ache in her chest.

She pushed the thought aside in favour of the very present, very persistent want, and wondered if pastel wearing, goody-goody, sweet-lipped Clarke had ever fucked at a party before. She bit her lip and locked her door.

Would you like to see what I am wearing? she sent, waiting for Clarke’s reply - absolutely, all i’ve picked out is what i want to wear underneath ;) - before searching out her leather pants and a particularly lovely black bra she had been meaning to wear. She changed into it, snapping a photo quickly, and sent it off with the caption still wondering what shirt would go well with it.

Then she waited.

Perhaps it was a little unkind of her to start off with an image like that, she thought. She knew she cut a very appealing figure, all trim and muscled and tattooed, but Clarke was a little more, well, innocent wasn’t the best word for it because she had felt the force behind that kiss, had felt the absolute desire when her mouth had moved down her neck intent on leaving marks for days, but still. There was something about her that made Lexa sure that Clarke wasn’t the type to exchange messages and photos that - Lexa didn’t have time to even finish forming her thoughts before she had to absolutely change her mind.

The woman wanted to kill her.

Lexa glared down at the image on her phone - red lace and pale skin - and tried to control her breathing and her heart rate, which went from excited to rampant.

She was going to make Clarke faint.

That was now the plan.

Make Clarke faint with want.

And then, come the party, she was going to get it all out of her system before she left. It was going to be intense, amazing, perfect really and she knew her reputation preceded her, knew that Clarke would have been told what kind of a girl Lexa was. Nothing could go wrong.

(So why did it already feel wrong?)

**Author's Note:**

> unicyclehippo on tumblr as well. come say hello


End file.
